Chapter Eleven: The Wood Hermit

“You understand pathology and medicine? Are you a healer?” Rou’er asked, her voice filled with skepticism.

“Of course I am not a physician, but I possess means to cure any injury or hidden ailment.”

“That’s a bold claim. If you don’t know the medical arts, how can you have such abilities?”

“That’s not your concern. As long as it’s not poison or a curse, I can heal it—whether it’s damaged vital meridians or grave wounds with death at the threshold, in my hands, the medicine brings instant recovery. First, we’ll prepare and head to the clinic to treat a few difficult and perplexing cases. Once our reputation spreads, more and more will come to seek our help.”

Rou’er nodded with partial understanding, then asked, “But with you looking like a mere youth, will anyone let you treat them?”

Chen Mu raised his brows and grinned. “Heh, that’s why we need to disguise ourselves.”

He immediately produced a cloak, wrapping himself tightly. “How do I look?”

Rou’er frowned, considering, then shook her head. “That won’t do. Here’s a better plan: I’ll hang on your back and use my pressure to disguise you, making you appear as a cultivator in the Yuan Core realm. That way, you’ll have authority before the clinic master. Meanwhile, you mustn’t speak—your voice could give you away. I have a secret sound technique that can mimic any voice. If you need to communicate, use your thoughts. I have a soul-link with you, so I’ll know what you say.”

Chen Mu nodded at once. “Then we’ll need some Fasting Pills before we set out.”

“What do you need Fasting Pills for?” Rou’er asked, puzzled.

“I can transform Fasting Pills into miracle healing elixirs. That’s my secret,” Chen Mu replied, half truthful, half teasing.

Rou’er muttered doubtfully, “Is that true?”

Ignoring her skepticism, Chen Mu went to Chen Haoran, obtained a bottle of Fasting Pills, and left. He and Rou’er entered a deserted alley to disguise themselves, wrapping himself thoroughly, and then strode straight toward the clinic.

His appearance was quite peculiar: barely over five feet tall, his back bulging as if he were hunchbacked, the cloak enveloping him completely. His aura was restrained, yet anyone with keen senses could detect the subtle pressure of a superior exuding from him.

Standing before the city’s largest clinic, he tidied his cloak, and when he felt prepared, entered.

At once, his unusual attire drew curious glances from all around.

A deep voice issued from Rou’er, who hung on Chen Mu’s back, “Where is your clinic master?”

Seeing such a bold inquiry, a physician frowned and replied with hostility, “If you’re ill, seek treatment; if not, be on your way! Our master is far too busy to see just anyone!”

But before he could finish, a chilling pressure swept through the clinic, making every knee tremble—Rou’er’s aura in full force.

That physician was at best a late-stage Foundation realm cultivator and now deeply regretted his attitude, sweat pouring down his brow, not daring to utter another word.

Upstairs, in a private room, an elderly man was sipping tea when he suddenly felt the oppressive force descend, his expression growing grave. He rose at once, opened the door, and called out in a clear voice, “Which esteemed guest has graced us today? If I have failed in my hospitality, I beg your pardon.”

This old man, though only at the mid-stage Yuan Core realm, was the highest cultivator in the clinic and must be the so-called “very busy” master, Hu Jiangyi.

“My surname is Mu. You may call me Daoist Mu. I have come to your esteemed clinic to borrow a few patients.”

“Borrow a few patients? For what purpose?” Hu Jiangyi asked, tense.

“Rest assured, I will do nothing inhumane—neither poison trials nor curse experiments. Recently, I developed a healing elixir of remarkable theoretical efficacy and wish to test its effects. I guarantee, its side effects are negligible, and with my elixir, any stubborn illness or lingering injury can be cured—so long as it is a wound or sickness,” Rou’er spoke again in a deep voice from Chen Mu’s back.

Hu Jiangyi hesitated, then cautiously asked, “You may test your medicine, but as old physicians, we are curious—what kind of pill could possess such miraculous effects? May we observe?”

“You do not trust me?”

“This…” Hu Jiangyi was genuinely troubled.

“Very well, feel free to observe.”

Hu Jiangyi was taken aback that Daoist Mu agreed so readily. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Very well, I shall gather a few patients.”

“Find those with the most baffling and intractable injuries—preferably internal wounds.”

“Internal injuries require long recovery and care—months, even years. You can’t possibly cure them at once, can you?”

“Just bring such patients,” Rou’er answered coldly from Chen Mu’s back.

Hu Jiangyi nodded, now truly intrigued to see whether this so-called Daoist Mu was genuine or had another agenda.

Within half an hour, Hu Jiangyi summoned several previous patients with difficult ailments, telling them a Yuan Core realm alchemist could cure their illnesses and to come at once.

Soon, three patients arrived at the clinic, each harboring a flicker of hope that Daoist Mu’s elixir might succeed where all famed physicians and alchemists had failed.

The first was paralyzed below the waist from a horse’s hoof after a fall. The second had a damaged heart meridian—palpitations, chest pain, angina. The third was a crippled veteran; after many campaigns, an arrow to the knee ended his days as a warrior.

Hearing that their grave afflictions might be cured, the three looked to Daoist Mu with hope in their eyes.

Chen Mu and Rou’er, in disguise, wasted no words. They produced the prepared Fasting Pills. “This is the Vitality Pill. Take it, and your ailments will be cured.”

When the patients saw the pills, their faces darkened—after all, these were clearly Fasting Pills. Yet, knowing he was a Yuan Core cultivator, they dared not protest.

Daoist Mu spoke again, “What? You don’t believe these are Vitality Pills? This is your sole chance to be healed—will you refuse simply because they resemble Fasting Pills? Or are you afraid they’re poisoned?”

Silence fell, until suddenly one patient exclaimed, “I’ve heard that Starwatch Valley once crafted a new healing pill, also called the Vitality Pill, which looked just like a Fasting Pill. Master, are you an alchemist from Starwatch Valley?”

At this, all gazes turned to Chen Mu, their trust in his words growing.

Chen Mu remained silent, neither admitting nor denying—making his claim all the more convincing.

With this rumor in mind, the three patients swallowed the pills without further hesitation.

A miracle occurred. Warmth surged through their bodies. The first patient gradually regained feeling in his legs, the long-lost sensation making his feet tingle. The second’s heart meridian healed, blood flowing freely, his heart stronger than before. The third’s knee was restored, his limp vanishing, old battlefield wounds healed without a trace.

Overcome with emotion, all three knelt before Daoist Mu, weeping in gratitude.

“My illness is cured! Thank you, Master, for your boundless kindness—I cannot repay you enough!”

“Thank you for healing my pain. I will spend my life repaying your gift, even if I must work like an ox or horse.”

“Master, you are benevolent—giving me, a broken man, a second life. From now on, my life is yours.”

All in the clinic bore witness to this incredible miracle, especially astounded by the Vitality Pill’s potent effects, left speechless.

Daoist Mu spoke again, “No need to thank me. I was merely testing a medicine—and it seems the trial was a success.”

Hu Jiangyi and the other physicians stepped forward, bowing repeatedly. “Master Mu, you are truly compassionate. Forgive us for not recognizing a true master. To craft such a marvelous pill is a blessing for all of Great Xia.”

From their initial fear, the physicians now regarded him with deep respect. Hu Jiangyi no longer called him ‘fellow Daoist,’ but addressed him as ‘Master.’